


YOU BETTER WATCH OUT x100

by Noahffence



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Christmas horror, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Horror, Joke fiction, POV Second Person, polished shitpost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21997489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noahffence/pseuds/Noahffence
Summary: You think you’re safe.You know you had prepared well: your doors are locked, windows are boarded shut and the food you’ve saved up since last year could now last for several more months if well rationed. You have no one left to worry about but yourself now. To keep yourself from spiraling further into a darker place during the day you need your sharpest senses the most, you decide to walk around your home, doing mindless tasks to keep yourself distracted.It is approximately an hour and a half later when amidst dozing off at your kitchen table out of boredom, you hear the sound of it.The familiar jingle of a bell, echoing from your living room.
Kudos: 3





	YOU BETTER WATCH OUT x100

**Author's Note:**

> Context: on the 25th, a meme in a group chat gave me an idea and I sat down to brain vomit Christmas horror for an hour. I now finally fixed it up to hopefully flow better, though it still jumps all over the place. Enjoy, maybe..? I know I'm taking the piss out of this but any feedback or critique is welcome! English isn't my first language and I'm a beginner when it comes to writing actual stories :,)

You think you’re safe.

You’ve checked the several locks you’ve kept your door secured tightly shut with since the end of November, for the umpteenth time. You’ve made sure, once again, that all of your windows are so boarded up that not even a single ray of light can find its way through even the tiniest crack of an opening. You know you had prepared well: the food you’ve saved up since last year could now last for several more months if well rationed. Still, a lingering, ever-present paranoia is keeping you on guard in your own home. You have no one left to worry about but yourself now. To keep yourself from spiraling further into a darker place during the day you need your sharpest senses the most, you decide to walk around your home, doing mindless tasks to keep yourself distracted.

It is approximately an hour and a half later when amidst dozing off at your kitchen table out of boredom, you hear the sound of it.

The familiar _jingle_ of a bell, echoing from your living room.

You feel yourself go cold from dread - you’ve made sure to purge your home of every Christmas decoration you could find, the _very moment_ you could feel safe since last year’s incident. You turn to face the direction of the sound, clutching with unsteady hands the rifle you’ve been holding close to your chest, to lull you into a false sense of safety, to keep you sane for the past week as Christmas Day approached. You creep toward the source as quiet as you can, trying your best to hear anything over the now deafening beat of your own heart, expecting for _Him_ to jump you at any moment… but you see nothing. For a fleeting moment, you think you may have imagined it. Maybe the paranoia had gotten the best of you… 

But just as you’re about to turn back and return to your moderate space of comfort, you hear a shrill, poorly honeyed voice, heavily laced with mockery: _“OwO what’s this? A scawy-wawy man with a wifle? You could huwt somebody!”_ You frantically search your surroundings, but still can’t find the target to point your rifle at. _Where is He!?_

A part of you knows it’s too late now, that you should have moved from your spot instead of making yourself an easy target. Human instincts can be treacherous that way; freezing in fear is the last thing you need when you’re facing a predator about to strike. You find out where the sound came from soon enough, when a thin and razor-sharp claw stabs through your chest from behind and pulls you toward the ceiling before you can even scream. Under other circumstances you might have found it comedic how the same cutesy sound of bells jingled when the claw caught you off-guard, but now all you can do is helplessly stare at your own flailing legs in horror and shoot blindly behind you, where you _think_ He is positioned.

You hear a screech of pain after your third attempt of a shot, but your victory is short-lived as He manages to grip your weapon, rip it away from your arms and drop it to the ground. The claw penetrating your chest grips harder, the sharp pain of it seeps through the adrenaline and you’re hit with the realization that _this_ is it - this is your end. You’re going to die alone in your home, in the hands of a creature that had sneaked into human traditions as a false beacon of joy and good will, and no one will ever know.

Powered by a final blow of defiance, you ignore the pain shooting from your punctured lungs and damaged heart trying their best to continue working while bleeding out. You lift your increasingly heavy arms to grip the claw you’re still hanging from - like a butchered animal from a hook - and pry yourself off. The creature lets you drop to the floor like a rag doll with a heavy _thud!,_ then following with another faint _jingle_ when the creature dropped from His spot on the ceiling.

You were hoping - and failing - to rotate onto your back to finally see the creature that took your family from you; the monster that you managed to somehow evade the previous year when He- no, _It_ butchered your loved ones, and got away with it. _No one believed the lone shivering survivor of a house fire to be the culprit, the arson’s purpose to kill the monster within._ Your body’s last remaining strength is withering away as you pathetically bleed out onto your living room rug. At least you can’t feel the pain anymore. Only cold.

Your head is laying on its side, but all your dimming eyes can catch are slowly blurring shadows of many limbs circling you, like a predator its prey. _How many of them are legs? And how many of them are arms?_ They seem to bleed into each other when they come to a halt at your side, out of your view. Your eyes can’t focus on anything anymore, so you shut them and hope for this nightmare to end quicker. That’s when you hear the faint sound something eerily familiar: the sickening, slobbery sound of raw flesh being chewed and swallowed in big gulps by a starving animal. The image of your slaughtered parents that you’ve tried your best to forget about surfaced in your mind again… _Their faces distorted by the beating and punctures from claws they’ve taken while you hid behind a wall in terror, unable to move. You could taste the bile rising in the back of your throat, threatening to overflow, yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the morbid scene. The creature, hidden by shadows, sticking Its claws into their ripped-open stomachs, greedily lapping Its fingers after each piece of guts and gore being shoveled down Its throat. Their sweet old dog, lying by the side almost unrecognizable as only small parts of it were left untouched. The creature’s hunger, seemingly boundless, making your skin feel unbearably itchy, feeling like something is trying to crawl out from underneath it._

You’re left lying there in your last moments, in your own home being mauled by a creature that took everything from you, and is going to leave behind carnage like you every following year as It’s always done.

All you can do at this point is hope that you’ll be able to join your family soon. You can’t afford to be bitter about it: seems like this wasn’t supposed to be your fight after all. Someone else will suffer the same you have; someone stronger, someone who can finally put an end to this. Your last living thought is to wish victory upon the next unfortunate survivor.

You let the darkness swallow you, and leave behind the gruesome scene. You feel nothing.


End file.
